


So We Can Stay Like This Forever

by rilla



Series: the kitchen table [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:04:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rilla/pseuds/rilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ziam, OT5. 'The last night of university is basically terrible. It goes from bad, when Niall comes in with the takeaways and a face like sin, and says “I’ve just realised that’s the last time I’ll ever speak to Jim the chippie man,” to worse, when Harry drinks a carton of chardonnay and starts crying in the middle of the living room rug.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	So We Can Stay Like This Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Brand New's Soco Amaretto Lime.

The last night of university is basically terrible. It goes from bad, when Niall comes in with the takeaways and a face like sin, and says “I’ve just realised that’s the last time I’ll ever speak to Jim the chippie man,” to worse, when Harry drinks a carton of chardonnay and starts crying in the middle of the living room rug. 

“I knew I shouldn’t have spent the last night with you lot,” says Louis, looking upset and red-eyed and as though he’s trying very hard to be furious and not quite managing it. “Do you know how many girls wanted me to go out with them tonight?”

Harry manages to stop crying for long enough to say, “Zero.”

“Tons!” Louis shouts. “All of them.”

“But you’ve got us,” Liam says sweetly, from beside Zayn.

“That’s even worse,” Louis says, but he comes down to sit next to the two of them anyway. “At least we’ve got our flat soon, right, Liam?”

“Right,” Liam says, being cheery because that’s what he does. He’s a perpetually cheery person. If Zayn wasn’t so aware that that’s one of the reasons he loves Liam so much, he’d probably hate him for it. “We haven’t found it yet, though.”

“Or jobs,” Niall says. “For a flat in London you’ll need jobs.”

“I’ve got a job,” Zayn says. No one pays him any attention, which is typical of his life. “Well, sort of a job,” he amends, because he doesn’t like to be inaccurate even if no one’s got the foggiest what he’s saying.

“What’s in London, anyway?” Harry wonders. “Why does everyone go there?”

“Shoreditch is in London,” Louis tells him. “Your spiritual home. People have handlebar moustaches and drink artisan coffee and drive penny farthing bikes.”

“You can’t drive a bike, Louis,” Niall says, making his patented ‘It’s So Hard Being The Only One With Any Brains’ face. Sometimes he and Zayn share that face with each other, in the form of wry glances as they dodge away from water fights and flailing limbs and their housemates being their usual prickish selves.

“I didn’t realise they don’t have bikes in Ireland, Niall,” says Louis, making very little sense, as per usual.

“I think I might be sick from all that wine,” Harry says conversationally from the rug, and heaves himself onto his back.

“You won’t be sick,” Zayn tells him, and Harry says contentedly, “All right then,” which was easy. Then he adds: “I do like the sound of Shoreditch, though. I want one of those moustaches—”

“You definitely can’t grow one of those,” Zayn tells him.

“You being so proprietary about being the only one here who can grow decent facial hair is getting right on my wick,” Harry tells him, but his beard still looks blond and weedy so from where Zayn’s sitting, Harry is definitely still losing.

“I like his facial hair,” Liam says, leaning in and cupping Zayn’s chin gently before kissing his cheek, and even now – even a few months later, now they’re an established couple and everyone knows about them and Liam’s mum has started inviting Zayn out for lunch every time she and Geoff come to visit Liam at the weekend, even now, it makes Zayn’s knees go a bit wobbly. He feels himself smile, he can’t help it; he leans into Liam, into his solid reassuring warmth, one of his arms over Liam’s lap and Liam’s arm slung across his shoulders, and beams into his face. Liam’s eyes crinkle in the corners and then he kisses him, nothing big, nothing showy, just a quick little peck. Zayn loves him so much. It’s terrible. He feels as though Liam has broken him and that he’s so in love that he’ll never be cool again. He doesn’t even mind.

Louis says, “I’m going to vomit everywhere, you’re both disgusting,” but he’s smiling anyway. Zayn flips him the finger.

Harry manages to fold himself upright. “Let’s sit in a circle,” he says.

“Are you going to try to make us have another séance?” Niall asks suspiciously. “I didn’t like that last time.”

“No,” Harry says, “although we should, because the spiritual world is full of mysteries just waiting to be explored. No, just – come here.”

They do, because it’s Harry, and he’s funny and silly, and he doesn’t have many demands, so when he does, they usually agree to them. They sit in a circle together, the five of them, all cross legged like they’re in school assembly, and it’s ridiculous, really, how things have changed. He remembers Niall the first day they met on their corridor in first year, all bleached hair and jittery energy, he remembers Louis all front and vodka shots and then crying in Zayn’s room in their second week of term because he missed his mum, he remembers Harry preppy and ridiculous in his Jack Wills hoodies and his expensive trainers. These days he doesn’t remember the last time he saw Harry wearing something on his feet that wasn’t pointy boots. He even got shouted at for trying to wear them on a bouncy castle during the university fair last week. “But I can’t bend down to take them off unless I unbutton my jeans,” he’d said politely to the world-weary woman running the inflatables, and in the end Liam had volunteered to tug them off his feet for him, because Liam is the sweetest and the kindest and the most obliging person that Zayn has ever met. Liam almost three years ago: quiet, nervous, always cleaning their communal kitchen. (“I bet he’s got a hypoallergenic pillow,” Louis had said darkly.) Liam now: the love of Zayn’s ridiculous life. It’s really not so bad at all.

“This feels like we’re about to play some mega drinking game,” Louis says, and then adds hastily, “But I shouldn’t, because I haven’t started my packing yet.”

“I’ll help you,” Liam says immediately, and Zayn says, “No. You’ll be busy later tonight.” Liam raises an eyebrow and smiles and leans against him and says, “He means sex.”

“I don’t,” Zayn says. “I meant my packing.”

“Then sex,” Liam says firmly.

“I’ve always thought it was convenient,” Harry says, “living with your boyfriend. Just being able to pop into each other’s rooms. Why aren’t you doing it in London?”

“Because me and Liam agreed to live together in London,” Louis says, starting to do his hurt and obstinate face, and Zayn gets it. He really does. If one of his mates offered to live with him and then got a boyfriend and changed his mind, he’d be pretty hacked off, too.

“Why don’t we just live in a five again?” Niall says, offhand. “I’ve got my internship down there. You lads’ll find jobs in no time. Zayn’s got his… what was it?”

“My PGCE,” Zayn says, quietly, and then explains: “Teacher training. At Kings.”

Liam beams at him, because of course Liam knew about it, Liam was there when Zayn was volunteering at a secondary school over the Easter break and doing interviews at various universities and writing up his personal statement. He didn’t get Liam to check it over for him, because it’s Zayn’s job to read over Liam’s essays to make sure they’re coherent and they aren’t usually, but he was still pretty chuffed when Liam looked up after reading it and said, “It makes you sound brilliant. Because you are.”

Zayn doesn’t think that anyone’s ever thought he was brilliant before. He thinks he could get used to it, but he doesn’t want to. He wants to be delighted and amazed by Liam every day that they’re together, which – and he doesn’t want to count his chickens, but there are some things he’s fairly certain of – will probably be forever.

“That sounds sick,” Louis says, and grins over at him. Back in first year, the two of them had thought about teaching; they’d wanted to do it at the same school, maybe, smoking during break time together and complaining about their students. Zayn doesn’t know what Louis is after these days – he’s fairly sure that not even Louis is sure what Louis is after – but he thinks he’s probably going to have to carry the torch of teaching alone.

“I think you’d be brilliant at that,” Harry tells him. “Every time I ask you about a poem you always explain it to me really well.”

Harry reads a lot of poetry. It’s starting to get on Zayn’s nerves a bit, if he’s honest, because he always wants to have long discussions about it and a lot of the time Zayn would rather have a little sleep. He smiles anyway, basking in everyone’s approval and the warm glow of Liam’s love next to him, and says, “Thanks, lads. What about you?”

“Media,” Harry says. “I don’t know what it is, but I’ve been told I’d be good at it.” Zayn suspects he might be right.

“I’d like to work in a nursery,” Louis says, after a moment. “I know we said teaching but I don’t give a shit about Brecht or Chekhov or any of them. I just like kids.”

“You like babies,” Niall says.

“They’re brilliant. They learn quickly and they’re hilarious and they make funny noises when they fall over. So, until I marry a very old rich widow and become a house husband – I’ll work in a nursery.” Louis shrugs, looking defensive.

“You could be a male nanny,” Niall says thoughtfully.

“I could,” Louis says, frowning like he’s seriously considering it.

“Hey,” Zayn says, and Louis narrows his eyes like he’s expecting an insult. Instead Zayn says: “You’d be good at that.”

Louis smiles at him, eyes softening. “And of course we have Niall, record exec supremo.”

“Intern,” Niall points out.

“Paid intern,” Liam says encouragingly.

“You’ve got me there,” Niall agrees. “I hope they don’t find out I don’t know anything about anything.”

“I’m starting to think that no one knows anything about anything,” Harry says thoughtfully.

If that’s true, Zayn really, really hopes he gets better at faking it sometime soon. He grins around at the others and says, “September, yeah, lads? I need to have moved down there by then. We’ll find a five bed house by September.”

Across from him Louis and Niall are nodding, and Harry says “Hell yes,” with conviction, and Liam touches his arm affectionately. Zayn doesn’t think he’s ever felt so warm and happy before in his life. These boys; his boys. He doesn’t know what he’d do down in London by himself. He knew he’d be getting a decent education at university, knew he’d probably learn a couple of things about Shakespeare and Chaucer, but he never banked on this. Four boys he’d trust with his life. One boy he thinks he’ll probably love until he dies.

“One more game of Cards Against Humanity for luck?” Louis says, and everyone cheers, and Zayn stumbles to his feet. “The cards are in my room,” he says, and Liam follows him out and upstairs, Zayn smiling over his shoulder as they traipse up to Zayn’s room together. God, this room. Zayn’s rickety double bed that they’ve almost fallen through a couple of times. The photobooth pictures of them blu-tacked to the wall that Zayn’s waiting to take down until the morning, Liam’s trainers under his bed next to his own, his screensaver a shot of their faces. Liam everywhere and in everything. Zayn doesn’t ever want that to change, even though his university life is boxed up and ready to be taken back to Bradford in his dad’s Honda first thing in the morning.

“I tidied them away,” Liam explains, opening Zayn’s desk drawer and pulling out the cards. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Zayn says. “What about you then, next year?”

“Oh.” Liam looks slightly flustered. “I don’t know.”

Zayn waits for a moment, because this happens sometimes, and he just has to be quiet and still and then the words will fall out of Liam’s mouth, the ones he was too tentative to say before. Liam says finally, stumbling a little: “Fitness, maybe.”

“Yeah?” Zayn raises an eyebrow. “Babe, you’d be great at that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Wouldn’t go out with you if you didn’t have a banging body, would i?”

“You would,” Liam argues. “You love me.”

“I do,” Zayn says, shaking his head like it’s unfortunate.

“I thought you might think it’s a thick thing to do. You’re going to be an English teacher. That’s properly clever.”

“If you can’t do, teach,” Zayn says, laughing at himself, although it’s partly true. He wants to inspire young minds, sure, but he also wants a regular pay cheque, and a decent pension, and good holidays. Mostly, he isn’t sure there’s anything else he’d be any good at.

“You’re the cleverest person I know,” Liam says, and he actually means it, Zayn can tell, he’s widening his eyes in that way he has where he’s being absolutely truthful, and it’s – it’s insane, this, how Zayn managed to get into this, how he managed to find a boy who thinks he’s brilliant and clever and kind too, to boot. How he managed to find a boy that he wants to be kind to, always.

“I really love you,” he says all in a rush, and crosses over to Liam, and puts his arms around his neck, pressing himself up against Liam. He loves how solid he is, how warm, how taut with muscle and how clean-smelling he is. He looks into Liam’s steady eyes and says, “Like, I really fucking love you. Like this is a permanent thing for me and I never want to split up. Like we should get two bedrooms when we all move in together because I’m going to need somewhere to work, but I want to share one and in a few years I want to move in with just you and I want to marry you and adopt some kids one day and get old and be gross with you, no matter how many sick noises Louis makes at us. I am so in love with you.”

Liam doesn’t say anything. Honestly, he doesn’t really have to. He just buries his face in the side of Zayn’s neck and holds him closer and says, “It’s a hundred and eighteen miles from Wolverhampton to Bradford. I looked on Google Maps.”

“I can drive that,” Zayn murmurs. If he holds onto Liam any tighter he thinks his muscles might give up the ghost and dissolve entirely.

“Me too,” Liam says. “Every weekend this summer. Every day I’m not working.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Zayn says, breathless.

“I’m going to miss you too,” Liam says. “You’re not the only idiot in love here. Last summer I thought I was going to go mad without you.” He releases Zayn, slowly. He’s blushing slightly. Zayn likes that.

“We weren’t even together then,” Zayn says, pleased.

“I was under your spell.” Liam wriggles his eyebrows at him and Zayn laughs, because Liam’s face is funny and silly and because he can’t help it. Because he loves Liam terribly, and Liam loves him back. Because everything is good and even though university is ending he’s still got his four boys at his side for their next adventure.

From downstairs Louis shouts “Have you found them yet? Or are you being gross?”

“We’re being gross!” Liam shouts back, his eyes on Zayn, the corners of his mouth turned up in the fondest smile Zayn thinks he’s ever seen. “Deal with it!”

“I don’t want to!” Louis bellows, and then laughs.

“He’ll understand one day,” Zayn says.

“When he grows up,” Liam agrees.

“Which will be never,” Zayn says, and frowns a little. “I hope not, anyway. I don’t think I want to.”

“It’s okay if we do grow up,” Liam says, “just a bit. Just by accident.”

“Well,” Zayn says. It doesn’t sound too bad, really, a grown up life with Liam. Like he said before: their flat, their kids, getting married. He doesn’t want to do those things just yet, but he feels pretty excellent knowing he’s met the person he wants to do them with. “Maybe. One day. But we’ve still got tonight.”

“There’s always tonight,” Liam agrees, and then his eyes light up. “Race you downstairs!” He clatters away, dashing down the stairs, and Zayn’s still for a moment, casts his gaze around his almost empty room. Memories shut away in boxes. Space to make more memories. That’s okay. That’s good. He turns on his heel and runs after Liam, heart pumping with sudden adrenaline, a smile on his lips. Downstairs Liam is flushed and laughing and Harry’s handing out beers and Niall has Louis in a headlock, and these are his boys, and this is his life. Even though the future is kind of big and scary and maybe too much at times, Zayn’s pretty sure, as he slips onto Liam’s lap and loops his arms around his neck, that he can handle it.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [flomps](http://flomps.tumblr.com) and my twitter is [foracorkscrew](https://twitter.com/foracorkscrew) \- say hi! Thank you for reading this. It was originally found [here](http://flomps.tumblr.com/post/130515522121/ziam-uni-au-d).


End file.
